My mind is like a busy metro station with people going in all directions taking different exits taking different corridors to various trains. People rushing to their trains and then to their seats. Through the haze of random faces I can spot girls in flowery dresses probably on their way to a café in Les Marias or Saint-Germain, oh, look they are carrying a bag full of tidbits for picnic and a bottle of rosé is peaking from under the picnic blanket. Forget the cafés it's time to find a nice place in a park or by the river. I pick up on their conversation.I know eavesdropping is rude but it seems so interesting and absorbing, never mind the fact that it's all French to me. I wonder what they are having for their picnic is it just some rosé and crackers, are there any jambon, fromage et pain involved in the story? Among the sea of tourist there is a chat about an exhibition, a comment and a laughter that fills the hall. Must be something hilarious. It flows into an arrangement about a drink, a beer or wine and a plate of cheese. Oh, I can imagine the plate of cheese, with seven different cheeses, butter and bread and it is a total cliche but the smelly cheese that melts in your mouth or it's runny texture over the bread.....Yum. And the wine, red, completely unsuitable for the hottest summer on record since the first half of the 21st century, but in such harmony with the cheese that nobody would mind the mild mid-day hangover the following day. I see a group of probably students from a summer school (
they are all carrying the same tote bags) one of them is really chatty and glowing with energy, one of them is timid and cool, one of them is amazed; unlike most of the tourists they seem confident of their way and of the train they have to take. Truth be told, they are clever enough to follow the signs and use common sense, so there still is hope. Finally a stand still, everyone is at the quay and the train is approaching. A zoom through the stations and they get off at their respective stops. The park, the café, the bar, the dormitory or university, the airport, work, home wherever they might be headed.
My mind is like a busy metro station with people going in all directions taking different exits taking different corridors to various trains. People rushing to their trains and then to their seats. Through the haze of random faces I can spot girls in flowery dresses probably on their way to a café in Les Marias or Saint-Germain, oh, look they are carrying a bag full of tidbits for picnic and a bottle of rosé is peaking from under the picnic blanket. Forget the cafés it's time to find a nice place in a park or by the river. I pick up on their conversation.I know eavesdropping is rude but it seems so interesting and absorbing, never mind the fact that it's all French to me. I wonder what they are having for their picnic is it just some rosé and crackers, are there any jambon, fromage et pain involved in the story? Among the sea of tourist there is a chat about an exhibition, a comment and a laughter that fills the hall. Must be something hilarious. It flows into an arrangement about a drink, a beer or wine and a plate of cheese. Oh, I can imagine the plate of cheese, with seven different cheeses, butter and bread and it is a total cliche but the smelly cheese that melts in your mouth or it's runny texture over the bread.....Yum. And the wine, red, completely unsuitable for the hottest summer on record since the first half of the 21st century, but in such harmony with the cheese that nobody would mind the mild mid-day hangover the following day. I see a group of probably students from a summer school (
they are all carrying the same tote bags) one of them is really chatty and glowing with energy, one of them is timid and cool, one of them is amazed; unlike most of the tourists they seem confident of their way and of the train they have to take. Truth be told, they are clever enough to follow the signs and use common sense, so there still is hope. Finally a stand still, everyone is at the quay and the train is approaching. A zoom through the stations and they get off at their respective stops. The park, the café, the bar, the dormitory or university, the airport, work, home wherever they might be headed.
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